


Welcome to Beacon Hills

by alan713ch



Series: Waiting for the Darkness [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU 3B, BAMF Lydia Martin, BAMF Sheriff Stilinski, BAMF Stiles, Banshee Lydia Martin, Cameos from other fandoms ahoy!, Canon Divergent, Gen, Magic, Multi, Nemeton, Ritual Sacrifice, Witches, emmisary stiles, moar danny, what is danny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alan713ch/pseuds/alan713ch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deaton had said that the ritual they made came with a cost: the Nemeton would act as a Beacon for endless creatures looking for its powers. They never thought it would be this much.<br/>Now, Beacon Hills is swarming with new residents, and none of them know which ones are just humans passing by, and which ones are creatures trying to take over the power they were tasked to guard. The worst thing is that maybe the humans are the ones they should be worried about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> First episode of my alternate 3x13!
> 
> At this point it is recommended you read the previous two works in the series, since this follows everything build up in them. 
> 
> Again, thanks for taking your time to read this. I hope you enjoy it!

Peter used his nose to guide him. The smell was very subtle, and he was sure that he wouldn't have been able to find it if he hadn't encountered it before. Seattle, when he was eighteen, horny and away from his family. It had been a great summer. He had lost several kind of virginities back then. Covens were fun when they didn't know you were a werewolf. When they did they immediately tried to kill you, though, so he knew he had to be careful. 

He wondered if he would register at their radars. He wasn't a full fledged werewolf yet - he couldn't be. If he had died an alpha he had to live an alpha. Right know? He was an omega, and he knew it. Between that and his condition of weakened resurrectee, he seriously doubted they would notice. That would give him an early advantage. 

He was the alpha of Beacon Hills. He just needed to reclaim his title from the pups that were running around like they were big shots. 

He had taken the title from her niece once, and somehow he still felt guilty about it. That's why he hadn't murdered Derek. Guilt. It felt so odd to feel guilty about what was technically his right. And yet...

The scent became stronger. Sweet flowers, roses. Jasmine. This was a powerful coven. 

Of course witches would be the first to be attracted to a holy sanctuary as the Nemeton. Even he had felt it pulse. When Blake had finally winded down, he could feel the magic of the place increase tenfold. The whole town was vibrating with it, even if people didn't notice. Emotions were heightened. Colors were more intense. It looked like Beacon Hills was a whole new place. 

And soon it was going to have a whole new set of residents. He could feel them. 

He finally reached the place where the scent was the strongest. It was a house, in the suburbs. Looked like a big house, so there could be anything from a small coven of three to a full fledged fraternity. He wondered how to approach them. 

He could ring the bell. 

"Yes?"

At the door was a young woman, probably around Scott's age. She didn't smell strongly of magic, so he supposed she was a serving girl. Or maybe a young initiate.

"Hello. My name is Peter Hale. I don't know if I'm in the right place. "

"Well, that depends on what you are looking for."

"I don't know how to say it without sounding a bit crazy."

"Well, say it. I'd be the judge of it."

"Can I talk to your mother instead?"

She gave him the stink eye. And yelled for her mother. 

"My, my. Peter Hale."

"Sabrina? What a coincidence."

It may have been too much of a coincidence. Or maybe not. After all, Sabrina had boasted to him of being among the rising stars of the witchcraft circles in Seattle, and it was relatively close. She would've been among the first ones to feel the Nemeton. 

That could complicate things, or make them a lot easier. 

"And to what do I owe this pleasure, old friend?"

"Friend? If I recall correctly, your mother tried to kill me."

"Well, that was because you took my virginity. And my brothers'. The two of them."

"Yes, I remember that. You also took mine. All three of you. All of them."

The women laughed. He had forgotten how musical her voice was. And apparently her daughter's was as melodic as hers. 

"Well, my little wolf, don't stay there, do come in. May I offer you a place at my table?"

"And I am honored to receive your hospitality."

"You remembered the words?"

"I'd never forget them."

"Please. We were about to begin dinner."

He followed them to the main room. A large table had been set up, and no less than thirteen seats were available. As a guest he received the place of honor, at Sabrina's right. Her daughter was at her left. She introduced him to her coven, witches and warlocks distributed along the table, mostly young people, except for what looked to be the old Warren crone. He hoped she didn't remember him. 

"Hale. Are you here now to try and fuck my granddaughter too?"

"I wouldn't dare to do so, ma'am. I am not the wolf I used to be."

"No, you are not. You are weak. I can see it in your aura. What happened to you?"

"I died. I latched myself onto the brain of a Wailing Girl. I used her magic to come back."

"A ghost."

"I am flesh."

"You are nothing."

He was _not_ nothing. 

"I may be a little indisposed, but that does not mean I am not of use to you."

"Of use to us? You?"

"I know why you are here."

"Every supernatural creature within three thousand miles knows why we are here, you don't need to be special for that."

"No, what I meant to say is, I know why you are here. The reasons that unleashed it."

"The sacrifices?"

"Aye."

"So you know how to tap into the Nemeton's power? You may prove yourself of some utility, Hale. If you are not lying."

"I am a guest under your roof. A lie would revoke my privileges and get me out of here, wouldn't it?"

"Fucking my daughter was supposed to do that too, and yet you stayed."

"Mother, how many times have I told you, it was consensual!"

"Bah, lies and wine it's all you've served me. But fine, I'll bite for now. What do you want?"

"Your help. Recovering. Recovering my power."

What he always wanted. 

"We can't just give you your powers, we don't deal with the magic of the moon, remember?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that. Just help with the local pack. After all, if I kill their alpha I will gain its powers."

"That sounds feasible. But, not until you have helped us."

"Melinda, you have yourself a deal."

"In that case, shut up and have dinner. I don't want to keep you here any longer that I have to. And remember that if you and Sabrina decide to go to her room I'll know, and I won't be pleased."

"Mother!"

"Hush, now. I'm hungry."


	2. Lydia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wanted to talk to someone who had answers, but Deaton definitely didn't have them, and it was too early to face Jennifer, even if she was already in the penitentiary. And she would not talk to Peter Hale. 
> 
> A part of her was still scared of him.

Things were going back to normal. Things had to go back to normal. They could not spend the rest of their lives waiting for the Damocles sword to fall on their heads. They had more important things to think about. Like the SAT's. And college applications. And grades. She was smart, yes, but she was not an automaton, and she couldn't study everything at the same time as much as she wanted. And researching what the hell was she was starting to take a lot of her time, since she only seemed to find contradicting opinions. She wanted to talk to someone who had answers, but Deaton definitely didn't have them, and it was too early to face Jennifer, even if she was already in the penitentiary. And she would not talk to Peter Hale. 

A part of her was still scared of him. 

Problem was, nobody else wanted to think of anything but the Nemeton. She knew they were right. If it was attracting all kind of crazy (crazier?) shit into town they had to be prepared. She wanted to be prepared, but it was like shooting in the dark. She needed to feel like she was accomplishing something and not just circling the same material over and over and over. She wanted to do something more, and since she was sure she wouldn't be doing anything supernatural anytime soon, she decided to not spend the day with her friends (her pack? She still felt unsure of the word) and instead would spend the day with Danny. And Allison, if she was willing NOT to talk about it. 

Danny was still out of the pack. He hung out with them mostly because of her, although Stiles loved to steal food from his plate as much as Scott's - nobody touched Isaac's food never, the kid needed the calories - and Scott was actually very pleasant with him, and they always discussed lacrosse even if the game wasn't in session. But they couldn't tell him, not yet, and for the time being she felt grateful about it. He was still oblivious to the darkness that hung around them. She could still pretend there was nothing to worry about when she was with him. 

She tried again, like every morning, to tap into her powers, to see if she could actually anticipate whatever death she was supposed to wail for. And like every morning nothing happened. As much as she tried, her power was mostly reactionary, which incensed her even more. Only once she'd been able to willingly summon it, and it hadn't been to wail, it had been to sing. 

To sing Danny to peace. 

She wasn't sad about it anymore. Aiden's death. And Ethan's. She had come to terms with it. With everything that had happened. Even Boyd's and Erica's deaths. She was sad about those, even if they had tried to kill her. She still had nightmares, but she didn't need to talk to Allison about them anymore. She didn't want to burn the letter in her vanity every time she saw it. Now only once or twice a day. She hadn't done it because she knew that letter could give her some answers. At least the sender would, when she dared to reply. 

Not yet. Not yet. 

She thought about it all the way to school. She was not supposed to think about it. She wanted to kick herself somewhere - she had made the decision not to think about it, and now she was sabotaging herself. She was NOT going to think about it. 

She was still thinking about it when the cute boy with the scars all over his face tried to ask her for directions. 

She panicked and screamed. He shrunk back. 

He did?

He immediately looked down, trying to hide his face from her. He even wobbled a little bit with his cane and she had to grab his arm to stabilize him. This didn't help much, however, since he actually cowed more. Like he was trying to avoid her. 

"I'm sorry."

He started to walk away. She realized that he had accepted he was scary to her and was probably going to try and hide until he could approach someone else. She knew that kind of behavior - it's the same one she had had for a couple weeks after Peter's ravaging. Her hand went to her side, ghosts of old scars hurting her torso. 

She was better than that. 

"Hey, wait. It's me who should be sorry."

"No, no - I understand."

"No, you don't. It's not you, it's me." He chuckled, sadly, as if he had heard that one before. "It is. I am a survivor, just like you, and you happened to be a trigger."

"What?"

She smiled. She was getting through his barriers. She grabbed his free hand and guided it. Lightly - she didn't need to give bad impressions. He felt it, and comprehension appeared on his face. 

"Wolf, too?"

"Something much more vicious. And to top it all, I was almost killed by a woman who had scars similar to yours. So, yeah, it's not you. Trust me."

He smiled a little. Even with the scars he was definitely cute. 

"I'm Lydia."

"Alex."

"Alex is such a common name, I'll call you Alexander."

"It's actually Alexandros. My parents were obsessed with Greek etymology and searched for the first form of the name."

"Wasn't that Arekasadara?"

He raised his eyebrow, impressed.

"Well, yeah, but that's the feminine form. Doesn't agree with me."

"So, you were going to ask me a question before I freaked out on you."

"Yeah, er, it's my first day here and I just got my schedule but I have no idea where I'm supposed to go - and you were the only one who wasn't talking to anybody, so..."

"No need to over explain. What class are you taking?"

"Advanced Economics."

"Ah, well, you are lucky, that's my next class too, so I'll walk you."

She grabbed him by the arm, the one he was not using to use his cane. She wanted to ask about it, but she knew it would be rude. However, she could not contain herself about his outfit.

"I have to admit, for a junior you are looking so much better than most of the kids around here. Perfect fit jeans, polished black boots, shirt and bow tie. And newsboy cap. Very 1900's. Very London 1900's. It suits you."

"Thank you. You don't look too bad yourself, although that may be because I am not a fan of too much make up. Yours looks good, yeah, but it's toeing the line."

"Aw, and I was just thinking of you as a potential boyfriend."

"Hey, you never know. But yeah, you are definitely not my type."

He had just moved to Beacon Hills because he decided he needed to have a small town life. His trust fund manager agreed, since he had gone through a small period of reckless drinking and partying, and had had to get him out of jail several times. It wasn't until the accident with the wolf that he decided to settle down a little bit. Beacon Hills had been chosen at random with a Random Number generator and a list of the 15000 small and picturesque towns in the United States. It hadn't been the first option - that had been Neptune, but he felt it was like being sucked back into the life of the rich and the powerful, so he had moved again. Besides, they were too shallow for his scars there. 

He hoped a town with a more recent history of animal attacks would be more open. 

"Well, you won't have problems with that. Almost everybody knows everybody, so if someone like me takes you in, you'll be accepted in no time."

"Does that mean I managed to talk to the Queen B of Beacon Hills High without realizing?"

"Not the Queen B of Beacon Hills High, my dear boy. Queen B of Beacon Hills, period."

She left him at the door so he could give his slip to Finstock and went to take a seat. She pointedly made sure that there was another empty seat nearby so he could sit with her. Scott was sitting one row at her left, two seats front, discussing something with Allison and Stiles. Nobody paid attention to Alex, which suited him fine. 

Well, nobody except for Finstock, who looked at him for a good minute like he was evaluating him. He didn't seem to pass, but Finstock introduced him to the class and waited until he was seated. 

"What's up with the teach?"

"I don't know, he's never acted like that before."

The class continued normally, except for Finstock yelling at Greenberg quite a bit more than usual, like he was lashing out at him because of someone else. Lydia purposely did not answer any of the questions that Coach made to the class, so whoever ended up being in the end point of his rage ended up answering wrong and probably scarred for life. 

At the end of the class Finstock made Scott, Stiles and Allison stay. Alex offered his arm and they walked to their next classes. He had double German and she had double French, so they were split until lunch. 

"Are you picking up more strays, Lydia?"

"Stiles, call me a stray again and I'll make sure Finstock does not let you play next Lacrosse season. And you know I mean it."

"Fine. Jeez, Danny, I was just making a joke."

Lydia glared at him. Alex had started to back down again, but she held him firmly in place. Maybe that was her power as a Banshee: a mean set of nails.

"Alex, this is everybody. Everybody, this is Alex. Here you have Danny, Lacrosse goalie and hacker extraordinaire; Allison, my best friend; Scott, vet in training and somewhat of a moron; Isaac, the only other one in this table with a little of a fashion sense; and the idiot in front of us is Stiles."

She did notice that his eyes lingered a little in Danny. He sat in front of the goalie, and got a deck of cards and started shuffling them. Tarot cards. 

"Is that a Tarot deck?"

"Yeah. I need to keep my hands occupied and whenever they try to take them away I can always lie and say I have them for religious purposes."

"So you just have them to keep your hands occupied? You don't read the future or something?"

"I'm not psychic."

That got a massive chuckle from the whole table, Lydia included. He and Danny raised an eyebrow each, quizzically, but they were ignored. Alex kept shuffling the cards and finally set them in a rainbow pattern on the table. 

"Hey, Danny? Wanna see a magic trick?"

Danny picked one card, and he paled for a second. She leaned immediately to see which one. The moon. 

This was the second time she remembered seeing Danny freak out about something moon related. The first time had been the bookstore. 

"You know what card it is? Lydia? Good, then put it back in the deck."

Danny did so and Alex reshuffled the deck for a good minute. Then he just left the cards stacked and started eating his lunch. 

"Er, aren't you supposed to tell me that the card on the top is the card that I picked?"

"Oh, no. The card you picked is in your back pocket. Keep it."

Danny immediately went searching for it and true enough, the card was there, The moon. Well, except now that there were ten digits scrambled on top of it. He couldn't help but smile, and Lydia saw that Alex smiled as well, finally smiled completely. The scars were not even that noticeable with that smile.

Lydia saw that she had never had an opportunity with that guy.


	3. Scott

"Stilinski! McCall! Argent! Stay for one second. No, Martin, no need to wait. Greenberg! Do that again and it'll be one week detention!"

Everybody knew about the Coach's strange obsession with Greenberg. All that Scott prayed for was that he would not become a new one - high school was already to hard to endure without dealing with Coach's weirdness on top of werewolf weirdness. Particularly if Greenberg was involved. 

"Yes, Coach?"

"The new kid, Karahalios. Did you smell him?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because he doesn't look right! Didn't you feel him? Stilinski?"

"Er, I didn't feel anything Coach. Why would I feel anything?"

"Because you are training to become a druid! You are supposed to feel these things!"

"Coach, are you sure this isn't whatever thing you are and you are just projecting onto us?"

Stiles immediately regretted saying that. Hell, he regretted that Stiles had said that. Coach just stood up slowly and seemed to be getting taller and taller. Scott wondered if the Coach was some sort of shapeshifter.

"Stilinski, let me remind you of something. I am not part of your little pack. I may be on your side if your intention is to protect Beacon Hills, but that doesn't mean I. Will. Tolerate. YOUR ANTICS!" Stiles tried to sit down. There were no immediate chairs so of course he fell to the floor. "AM I CLEAR?"

"Yes, Coach."

"Good. Now I want you to get out of here and check on Karahalios. AND I WILL SEE YOU ON THE FIELD!"

They scrammed. That was the only way they could describe how they ran out of that classroom. 

"Yeesh, Coach is definitely been testy."

"Understatement of the century, Allison! You wouldn't think he's one of the good guys by the way he treats us... Hey! What if he isn't one of the good guys!"

"Stiles..."

"No, think about it, he's been grumpy since he admitted he knows about the supernatural, maybe he had this whole evil plan that he intended to unleash and now that we know he knows that we'll be on top of him and he won't be able to do it and that's why he's been super mean to us, having us do all the exercise and the obstacle races and all that stuff and..."

"Stiles!"

His best friend stopped. He had had to use a little bit of the alpha inflection - he didn't mean to scare him. Just to ground him.

"Too much Adderall?"

"I don't know, maybe?"

"Stiles..."

"Oh my god Scott, you're my alpha, not my mom!"

"Yeah, but my mom did tell you to lay down the adderall a little, and she's a nurse."

"But...!"

"Stiles..."

"Fine, I'll calm down."

"Sorry about that, Allison."

"Oh, please, I'm used to it. Besides, it's fun, like having the brothers I never had squabble for who gets the top of the bunk bed."

It took him a minute to realize that being called a brother had stung. 

"Well, we know that Coach is something, and whatever that may be is telling him that we should check on the kid. So, we'll need to find a reason to hang out with him. Maybe he'll join one of the teams or something?"

"Scott, did you notice he has a cane?"

"So?"

"That means he's hurt in his leg. All the exercise he does is PT."

"Oh."

"Sometimes I wonder how you live."

"You've kept me alive."

"Aw, Scott, you're making me blush."

"You two are making me blush now. I've got French, so I'll see you later. We need to find out a way to get close to him."

It turned out they didn't. Lydia had brought him to their table and when Stiles' joke about strays almost drove him away Lydia insisted he sat down. 

There were many things about him that looked wrong, but none of them screamed supernatural. His face was ravaged in an eerily similar way to that of the Darach, but unlike Ms. Blake's wounds his were closed. His limp was soft, like a tendon that had not healed properly. It may have happened during the same attack. He tended to slouch, in a similar manner to Isaac's - trying to hide away. Maybe he was too self conscious about his scars and that's why he overcompensated in the manner he dressed, too poised and perfected. Not even Jackson used to dress that well. 

If he weren't affected by those scars, he would've looked like any other kid in town. Tall, lanky, probably a bit too skinny since he didn't do that much exercise. As a matter of fact, besides the scars there was nothing particularly interesting about him that he was sure he wouldn't have paid attention to him if it weren't for Coach. The kid even smelled normal, a mix of hormones and sweat that kept getting a bit more pronounced the more the kid focused on Danny. And the attraction went both ways. 

He smelled like a human. But then again, so did Lydia. 

He gave up for the time being. He had something much more important to think about - the fact that Allison had called him a brother. 

They were falling out, he knew it. Or at least, he could feel it. She was still there for him, and he was there for her, but she was still too hurt from all that had happened and could not look at him the same way she had at the beginning. Also, she and Isaac were finding each other, and that hurt. He was jealous. But he didn't have the right - Allison was her own woman and could do whatever she wanted. And Isaac was Isaac - Scott wouldn't dare to go against his friend. But that didn't mean he had to be happy about it. 

Besides, Allison shared that little bit inside their hearts, that bit that was making him think about the fifty four different ways he could force Isaac not to talk to Allison anymore. The darkness.

He thought about the disappointment in his mother's face whenever the darkness wanted to take over him. It had been a little bit too frequently lately.   
Their day kept going on, and at one moment he did text Lydia to keep an eye on Karahalios and to meet them in the field later so they could report to Coach and maybe have him back down. At one moment he saw Rafael enter the principal's office but decided he didn't care. He didn't need to deal with that right now. 

His whole pack assembled in the field and waited for Coach. 

"Well?"

"We couldn't find anything about him."

"Why are we investigating him again?" Lydia was obviously not happy about the idea of investigating the new guy probably just because he is the new guy. 

"I sensed something off about him, thought it was worth checking it out."

"Well, he definitely smells, acts and behaves like a human. If he's something, he would be something like Lydia - human with an ability hidden."

"Hey!"

"No, I was never able to tell there was something wrong about Martin. To me she was always the accessory girlfriend of Jackson."

"Coach!"

"Well, you were, lady!"

"Say that again and I'll make sure my next scream goes to you."

"Coach, we need to know what you are, if we want to know what to look for. I mean, Isaac and I are werewolves, so we can detect scents, maybe shifts in body language, but nothing beyond that. Stiles is barely beginning his training with Dr. Deaton, Allison is just a hunter and Lydia, well, we still don't know what she can do. If you are the one who sees something wrong with him you need to tell us what that is."

"I don't know! I'm a low level psychic - I can tell when things are wrong. You know, a storm coming, you wolfing out, the Darach's presence in school. That doesn't mean I can pinpoint them - I knew you were a werewolf because I was monitoring you in Lacrosse, but I could never tell Jackson was a Kanima. When the Darach attacked the school she used her virgin sacrifices to hide from the likes of me. And like I've said, I never knew there was something wrong with Martin. Rather, I always saw her the way she is, so there was no bench scale for me to compare."

"So I just register human in your radar?"

"With a penchant about complaining, yes, but human."

"Back to Karahalios, we didn't find anything wrong with him."

"Maybe your right, and I'm just getting old."

Suddenly Coach's expression just froze. 

"That's it! That's what is wrong with him. He just reads _old_."


	4. Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What? There are zombies but no dragons? That's totally unfair!"

"What do you mean by old?"

"That, old. He's old. Older than he looks."

"So we may be looking at what, a really old dude with a good plastic surgeon?"

"I think the scars would betray the surgeon. They are natural. Not fake."

"Maybe they're magic. Like an illusion."

"No, not at all - I would've been able to tell them apart if they were."

"Well, what kind of beings are ageless?"

"Pfft, anything - fae, vampires, mundane gods, ghouls - no, ghouls prefer the dark..."

"Zombies?"

"Of course not! Zombies SMELL, Martin, trust me, we'll know about them before they are a mile from Beacon Hills."

"A mile is not that much..."

"What about dragons?"

"Stilinski, don't be daft."

"What? There are zombies but no dragons? That's totally unfair!"

It was!

"Well, what do we do? Do we start researching on immortal beings and see if any matches the description of a moderately good looking guy with slashes all over his face?"

"Oh no, I am not doing research this afternoon. I'm hanging out with Danny, and from the looks they were giving out at each other I'll be hanging out with Alex too. We are going to go through SAT planning, talk about what colleges we want to visit and consider for our future, maybe even discuss some clothing. I am not discussing supernatural tonight."

"Hey, can I come too?"

"No, Stiles, you can't come."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't shut up, and since right now you are suspecting him of being something you will start babbling and mentioning weird things and all sorts of random things in order to trip him. I won't take that."

Why was everything so unfair today? And was he really that obvious?

"Well, Lydia, in that case can you keep an eye on him? Try to find out more?"

Lydia looked at Scott like he had said the most insulting thing she had ever heard in her life. Stiles had been twice at the end of that look and he recoiled in fear.

"OK, Scott, let me be clear. You may have finally told me everything that is going on, you may have taken me in your little group of friends and I may have accepted you as the leader of the clique even if I still don't understand what it means to be part of a pack and you being the alpha of said pack. That does not mean you are the boss of me nor gives you the right to command anything at me. I may not know what I can do yet but if it turns out that I can kill people just by screaming you better be sure that it will be you if you order me around again. Understood?"

Stiles had managed to make himself even more little than he had when he saw her eyes. The whole pack, Allison included, had managed to make themselves so little it was a miracle nobody on the benches had suddenly called 911 to report the disappearance of four teenagers. Even Coach had backed away from her in fear. 

Scott only nodded and she walked away. A beat later Allison went after her and judging by the fact that Lydia hadn't smitten her meant that they were talking about anything but banshees and immortal beings. They were probably talking about school. He hoped they were talking about school.

He knew that Scott still felt guilty about Lydia. Hell, he still felt guilty about Lydia - how she had ended up in this mess and how they had found out about what she was and how she was the one that needed to be closer to normality. That's why he didn't push it. Besides, if they were going to talk about colleges he would feel double guilty about it - he still hadn't given any thought to that. None at all. 

"So, bookstore again?"

"Can't - I have to go to the clinic."

"Isaac?"

"I'm actually going to the hospital. They are taking volunteers."

"And you are going to become one just so you can keep an eye on Mrs. McCall. Good catch."

"Will you be fine?"

"Well, except for the fact that you guys are totally ditching me, yeah, I'll be fine."

"Stiles, not the Michael Cera impersonation again."

"Are you using the Alpha voice for that?"

Scott just playfully smacked him in the arm while Isaac laughed and Coach proceeded to leave muttering something about Greenberg being in detention. They parted ways and Stiles went for his jeep. He tried to ignore the voice in his head that kept telling him that instead of being closer they were drifting apart - that was the darkness in his heart that came from the Nemeton, and he was not stupid enough to believe it. 

He tried to ignore it so much, he hadn't realized he had reached the bookstore. It was next to the tattoo place where Scott had tried to get his tattoo once, when they hadn't realized it would just heal. They were starting to become frequent clients since neither Beacon Hills High nor the Public Library contained many volumes on the supernatural, and Deaton's library had already been scourged and was in the process of being digitalized. Usually Lydia would be the one to go, since she could afford buying all the books and not have her mom snoop about it in the credit card statement. Well, his dad won't be snooping anymore since he was in the know, but it was going to be difficult to justify the expense anyways. 

"Hey, watch it, boy!"

He had collided with a girl - a _pretty_ girl - that was hovering the Spellcraft section.

"Oh my god! I'm sorry, I was completely spaced out, I didn't see, I'm so sorry, I didn't hurt you did I? Oh god, why am I such a spaz, I must be more controlled than this, I'm sorry, I didn't see..."

"Wow, you talk a lot. Calm down, I'm fine."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You're pretty. I'm sorry!"

He could not stop himself. Besides, she looked fantastic in her jeans, her boots, the bracelets in her arms, the flowers in her hair. She even made chewing gum look fantastic. He wished for some chewing gum. Maybe it would stop him from talking. 

"Whoa, stay there, cowboy, you crashed into me, not exactly the best pick up strategy you know?"

"I know, and I'm sorry."

"I told you, it's fine. Will you shut up?"

"That's probably not going to happen since I had too much adderall this morning. I'm Stiles!"

"Stiles? What kind of name is that?"

"A nickname. Stiles Stilinski."

"Stiles Stilinski? Wow, you have no imagination whatsoever."

"Everybody loves the originality of my nickname!"

"Everybody tells you they do. They are probably lying to you."

"Oh, that's rude!"

"Not as rude as walking into other people!"

"I already said I was sorry - wait, are you teasing me?"

She smiled a wolfy smile. A smile he usually saw in other guys. Specifically his pack. 

"You are, aren't you? Oh my god, oh my god!"

"You should make a poster campaign: what not to do when you are high on adderall."

"Har har, so funny."

"And what is a pretty boy such as you doing in this bookstore?"

"What, can't a guy be interested in magic? Wait, me? Pretty?"

"Looking for a love potion to make that girl fall for you?"

"No! Love spells are very serious - they are basically the magical equivalent of roofies! No love spells! Back to me being pretty..."

"Hm, and here I thought you were just some random dude with a huge boner and some issues with limits. Are you a practitioner?"

"Not yet, just learning. You?"

"Runs in the family."

"It does?"

She just smiled, grabbed a book and walked to the register. He was speechless. For the first time in his life he was speechless and the reason was not that somebody was about to die. 

"I didn't catch your name!"

"I didn't give it!"

And with that she was gone. 

Stiles blinked for a while, completely unsure of what to do. The last time he had felt that way was when Lydia had kissed him and there were MUCH bigger issues going on. 

He turned to the shelves and started browsing. Immortal beings. Like Coach said, that could be anything. He didn't know what to look for. So he grabbed a book here, there, one in theories of immortality, another one in the thermodynamic explanation of life - that one was for Lydia - and a couple in legends of immortal beings through the ages. He ran the numbers in his head and hoped that his credit card wouldn't be declined. 

At least she wasn't there to witness his humiliation. Who was she? He hadn't seen her before, and Beacon Hills was not that big of a town. He already knew everyone, he would notice a new student. 

"It's you again."

"Hi. You really need to start a book-lending system, or an ebook sale, otherwise I am going to give you all my money at some point."

"Hey, be glad we don't take souls."

"You're funny."

"Why all these books on immortality...?"

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me."

"No, you would not believe me."

"As you wish. Cash or charge?"

Stiles gave her his credit card. It was declined. 

"Crap. Can you... can you put them on hold? I'll come back tomorrow."

"You really need them, huh?"

She looked at him in an almost clinical way. He was tired. He cracked. She would not believe him anyways.

"The Coach in my school is a low level psychic who believes the new student is something old, but he doesn't know what."

"Coach? You work with Finstock? Why didn't you say so? I'll just charge him."

"Wait, what? He has an account here? You know about him?"

"Well, d'uh. He has to, trying to hide as much as he does. Wait, you are not supposed to know that, are you?"

"Apparently not. How do you know Coach?"

"If he hasn't told you I won't betray his secrets."

Stiles just hit his head on the counter. She kept looking at him, and suddenly went back store. He couldn't see what she was doing but after a couple moments she came back with another couple of books, completely nondescript. 

"You are with the girl who asks about banshees, aren't you? Take these to her. They are far more complete that the ones she bought - I gave her the usual stuff."

He eyed her suspiciously. But there was not much he could do at the moment - not particularly now that he might be able to get some books for free. He took them and proceeded to the door. 

"Hey, kid! Be careful."

"You know what's going on?"

"Everybody knows what's going on, even those who have no power. The Nemeton is too big to be ignored."

Stiles gulped. It was exactly what he did not need to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started a tumblr, because apparently everybody does. [Here](http://alan713ch.tumblr.com). I'll use it to post writings that are not related to fandoms, snippets of what I'm writing at the moment, and whine obsessively about the fact that I can't write certain scenes for this series.


	5. Lydia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She would not be outspent by a pretty boy.

"C'mon, Lydia, why do you fret so much? We all know you are going to MIT."

"There are other math schools, you know? La Sorbonne in France, Cambridge in England, ETH in Switzerland, Guanajuato in Mexico?"

"Guana - what? Of course you'd be the one to be looking for the top math school in each country."

"What can I say? I intend to be a prominent mathematician, and for that I need to study in the best schools."

Allison laughed at her. They were not thinking about it. 

The line in Starbucks was pretty long, but they were not in a hurry. It was their second drink (and no matter what everybody else thought, Lydia put a lot of effort into her figure, so she would not be having a caramel macchiato this time, she would be having a nice cup of hibiscus tea. Good detoxyfier). It was her turn to pay since Alex had got his Black American Express out before they could even finish deciding what drinks would they have. She would not be outspent by a pretty boy. 

"You have this whole plan, don't you, Lydia? Like, what boys to date, what extracurriculars to take, what schools to apply to?"

"I did. You know, before I got bitten by Peter."

"I'm sorry. I guess life isn't fair."

"No, it isn't. But that's the virtue of a good plan - it can be adapted. Yes, it may be that I am a supernatural creature, but that doesn't mean I won't be a prominent mathematician."

"I envy you. You can just switch positions like it's not a problem."

"Of course it is a problem, Allison. That doesn't mean it should not be solved."

"You sound like my mother."

Allison gave her a small smile. Lydia cocked her head in curiosity. It was rare that Allison would speak of Ms. Argent after her death - it reminded her too much of that time when she wanted to kill everybody. Lydia wondered every once in a while if it was worth it knowing about all the crap that was going on. 

"She... she was good at problem solving. She even used to teach Math at a boys school, when my parents lived in the East Coast. Virginia, I think. Then they moved to San Francisco and that's when she became a fashion shopper."

"See? Adaptable. Whatever life throws at us, we should be able to face it."

"So if life throws at us a boy with scars and a low-level psychic that says he's trouble..."

"Allison!"

Allison laughed, and Lydia huffed. She went and got their drinks (black coffee for Alex, Oreo mocha for Danny, pumpkin cappuccino for Allison and hibiscus tea for herself) and made Allison carry the drinks back to their table. For a moment she wanted to stay behind - it was obvious the two guys were getting very well acquainted - but she wanted to go back to her book on SAT essays. 

"Thank you!"

"You always take your coffee black?"

"I have several allergies. It's almost impossible for me to have anything that I don't cook myself. Black coffee is an easy choice."

"Are they really that bad?"

"Nah, but I feel like crap for ages afterwards. It's not worth it."

"Interesting. So, where were we?"

"You were pestering us about what schools we wanted to attend."

"Wasn't it your turn to answer, Danny?"

The boy blushed. Apparently he felt a bit embarrassed talking about it.

"I... I don't know? I mean, it'll definitely be computer related, but I don't know if I want to do compsci, or network engineering, or something different. Hell, for all I know I may end up switching majors to trumpet and call it a day."

"Aw, c'mon, Danny, everybody knows you are going to do the Stanford computer program. Stiles told us about..."

"Ahem!"

"What just happened here?"

"Nothing. Nothing."

Lydia smiled at the boy. He was blushing. 

"C'mon, Danny, you don't want to tell Alex here how much of a bad boy you are?"

"Now I'm interested."

"Lydia, I hate you."

"You love me."

"No, I hate you."

"What happened?"

"Danny here is a hacker extraordinaire, I mentioned that this morning. What I didn't mention is that it once got him into trouble. Legal trouble."

Alex raised his eyebrow to Danny, who looked like he wanted to bury his head in sand. Then they both started laughing. 

"Really? Why?"

"I am not allowed to mention the specifics. I can only tell you that there were a bunch of secrets involved, and if there is something I hate is to be kept in the dark - I'll do everything in my power to find out what's hiding behind the door."

The boys laughed heartily, but the girls looked at each other like they were afraid to spill a secret right there. 

"What about you, Allison?"

"I don't know. I mean, I'll go to college, but I'll definitely start undeclared. I guess I'll try to get a sports scholarship, I'm good at archery."

"You are? Modern, or Roving?"

"Modern. Do you rove?"

"My parents tried to make me. I thought it was boring. I usually prefer hand to hand combat. I did, I mean, before, you know."

He raised his cane slightly. He was drawing inside, Lydia saw, so immediately tried to bring him out. 

"You, Alex? Where do you wanna go?"

"Well, I am not hiding from you the fact that I have money. So it is assumed that I'll go to a big school in the East Coast. But I don't know, I have had very bad experiences with the real world, I'm tempted of getting a job here and just live out of my trust fund."

"Oh, don't be such a Debbie Downer."

"What can I say? The world is not nice for a young man with a set of scars on his face."

They lost him, Lydia knew. So she deflected the conversation onto the essays, the tests, the resumes, and let him stew a little bit on his own. She also nudged at Danny to keep talking to him, to bring him out or at least keep him from completely shut himself away. She didn't know why she cared so much. Maybe it was the fact that he seemed what she would be if it weren't for the pack. 

They kept at it for a while, and then they gathered their stuff and walked through the mall, Allison and herself a bit behind the boys, giving them their space. There were so many new stores it was a bit unsettling - not that the mall was empty before, but it almost seemed that it had grown at least twice its size in the past month. There were a couple of beauty shops that she hadn't tried out yet - Marissa would kill her if she found out, though, and she was too good of a stylist to just change her, but it didn't hurt to shop around - and new bookstores, and clothes made with organic cotton and perfumes based on natural scents and a huge costume store that she wanted to check before Halloween but definitely the most interesting addition was the war and weapons store: an antique curiosity shop that specialized in swords of all over the world. Stiles would be fascinated with that one. The side of him that _still_ was part of an online RPG gaming community that is. 

Allison was also interested in the store. Of course they went in. They split inside - Allison immediately went after the daggers, Danny showed interest in the lances and spears, while Alex got in a conversation with the clerk about swords and their classification through history. Since she had never been particularly interested in weapons she just wandered around the store, admiring the bastard swords, the rapiers and the epees, the shining armors of the knights and the polished gleam of the shields. She felt a bit oppressed since the store looked more like a badly organized warehouse, so she just signaled Allison that she was fine and walked outside. 

Funny thing, even the mall felt too small. Too many people, too many stores, too much. Maybe she had eaten something that didn't agree with her?  
So she got out - the eastern door was right there and walked a little to get some air. It felt good, the cool crisp fall air in her lungs. The smell of the woods. 

The fallen leaves. 

But then she couldn't breath. 

Her body tensed. All the muscles inside her were constricted except for her lungs. No, her lungs wanted to expand, wanted to explode, wanted to let the air out and let it reverberate against her vocal chords. 

She tried to keep it inside. She couldn't. 

She screamed. 

When the wail stopped, she fell to her knees. She always felt the same after each wail: weak, tired, sad. A tear would always fall down her cheek, a mourn for the soul that had departed this world in a way that was not correct. 

A security guard came to her and started asking her questions. No, she was fine, it was just a panic attack, she would be OK, all she needed was to sit down, no need to call anyone, no, wait, yes, her friends in the new antiques store, here they are, yes, this is my friend Allison, it's alright, don't worry, thank you. When the guard finally left them alone Allison took her cellphone out. 

"Scott? Did you hear it? Lydia just screamed" Lydia heard them chatter for a minute before she got up and started walking. By that time Danny and Alex had reached them too, and started following her.

"Lydia, wait!"

Allison caught up with her and started talking to her. About what? It didn't matter. She had to keep walking. She had to give the poor soul a proper burial. 

They heard another girl screaming before they reached it. 

It had been dumped in the trash of the mall. The girl was one of the employees at Applebee's, and she had just taken out the trash. 

The body, it was of a young man, probably in his thirties, nothing particularly interesting about him. As a matter of fact, it looked so painfully average it could have been hidden among a pile of mannequins and no one would've realized it was there. 

The body was pale and twisted. It had been bled to death.


	6. The Sheriff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unlike himself, Rafael would look deeper. He had always been much more open to explanations that John deemed as impossible for the simple fact that they made sense. If werewolves made sense to Rafael, he would pursue it as a possible explanation. Therefore, he had to make sure they didn't make sense.

"Excuse me, Sheriff?"

John raised his head from the paperwork he was working through. Apparently the FBI needed a huge amount of reports of the events that had occured in the past eight months, and since he had somehow found himself involved in the investigations of all of them, he had to write them. Besides, he needed to know how much he had suspected of the supernatural comings and goings, and how much of those suspicions were in the reports, willing to pave the way of McCall into finding their secret. 

Unlike himself, Rafael would look deeper. He had always been much more open to explanations that John deemed as impossible for the simple fact that they made sense. If werewolves made sense to Rafael, he would pursue it as a possible explanation. Therefore, he had to make sure they didn't make sense.  
But what would make sense?

"Yes, Marie?"

"Er, there's this old lady and her daughter at the front desk. They say they just moved into Beacon Hills and... want to introduce themselves to the authority?"

"That's new."

"More like old. Really old."

"Yeah, maybe. Let them in."

"OK, boss."

He organized the paperwork in a manner that it would be easy to retrieve when this little social call was over, and raised to open the door to a pair of women who were obviously related and came bearing a huge amount of what seemed to be Argentinian Empanadas. Claudia used to make those back when Stiles was a little kid with no input in the kitchen and he could eat meat without being harassed about it. 

"Good afternoon, Sheriff! Thanks for putting up with the whims of this old lady who feels that customs should be more preserved than they are. My name is Melinda Warren and this is my daughter Sabrina. We just moved into Beacon Hills and we wanted to introduce ourselves to the community."

"A pleasure to meet you, ma'am, I am Sheriff John Stilinski, and pardon me for saying it but I am surprised. Most people when they move in they just file for their necessary paperwork and retrieve themselves to their homes. I had never had a visit like this one."

"Oh, I know. It's a shame, really, since people would be much happier if they had a sense of community. Back in Seattle nobody knew anybody, and all the kids would do was hide in their garages and play their strident music. As you can see, my granddaughter is not here presenting herself because she felt like 'exploring town'. Kids these days."

"Mother, Lorena is seventeen and perfectly capable of defending herself. No need to berate her just because she wants to hang around."

"Seventeen? Will she enroll in the High School? My own son goes there right now, a junior."

"I'm afraid not, Sheriff, we prefer to home school."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. We have some conflicts of interest with some of the curricula. Mostly religious, I'm sure you understand. No need to worry, we make sure she takes a validation test every year, and she is definitely getting ready to apply for college."

"Well, if you feel like she could do with some friends from the community, I'd be happy to introduce her to Stiles."

"Stiles? What kind of name is that?"

"Mother!"

"A nickname, ma'am. He doesn't like the way most people can't pronounce his first name. I can't."

"And why would you choose a name like that?"

"It was his mother's father's name. Claudia loved his father, and who was I to deny my wife's wishes?"

"Maybe I'm reading too much, but it sounds that you and your wife are not together anymore?"

"She died several years ago."

"I am sorry. And we are taking up too much of your time - we only wanted to introduce ourselves, not make you uncomfortable with questions, right, mother?"

"Bah, you have picked so many bad habits. But it's true. I hope you can accept our gift? It's something newcomers would do when I was young, bring a gift to their hosts."

"I was expecting the hosts to give a gift to their guests."

"That's when the guests depart. A sign of good will for the road."

"Ah. Pardon me."

"No need. Empanada? We brought several for the whole department. You should even take some for your kid!"

John made the movement to grab one of the little meat pies, when chaos broke into the station. 

Beacon Hills Mall Security was calling to report finding a dead body in their dumpster. He excused himself from the Warrens, grabbed an empanada at their insistence and stepped into his cruiser. With the sirens on the drive to the mall was less than fifteen minutes, where he found a bunch of people surrounding the back lot of the mall. He immediately noticed that skirting it were Allison and Lydia, and the latter looked like someone had walked on her grave. 

He would talk to them as soon as possible. Nobody understood what Lydia was yet, because all the resources they could find about banshees contradicted each other. Sometimes they contradicted themselves. But if she was there - and she looked the way she did - at least it was a confirmation that whatever happened to that body was supernatural in origin. 

Well, he really didn't need Lydia to be sure of that. The young man had his throat slit and his heart ripped out. That immediately put the case in the 'not-so-common' pile. 

He had no ID and no possessions. There were no physical marks that could be used to identify him, and the clothes were nondescript, except for the lack of shoes. He looked like the definition of Joe Average: medium height, medium built, dark brown hair starting to recede, hands worn with age. When the paramedics approached to retrieve the body and put it in a bag he saw that his eyes were brown but milky. He already had advanced rigor mortis, which meant that he was dead for at least eight hours. The body would have been in livor mortis if it weren't for the lack of blood. He wanted to make the joke about it being the work of vampires, but between the lack of puncture holes anywhere and the fact that his son hung out with werewolves he found himself uncapable of saying it. Ramirez did, but nobody laughed. 

The crowd had been clearing with it became obvious they were not going to share more information. He made sure that the body was going to be taken to Beacon Hills Hospital's Morgue instead of the Arbor Clinic downtown so Melissa could take a look at it and inform the pack, and then dispatched everybody else to the station. When they were finally alone, he turned to Allison and Lydia - the two boys that were with them had left when Allison assured them that the Sheriff knew them and would definitely want to talk to them. 

Atta girl. 

"Girls, what happened?"

"We were in the mall, then I felt like the world was oppressing me. I went out for air and then suddenly I wailed. Then I knew the body was nearby and my body went automatically for it. I didn't find it - someone else did, but I knew it was there. Oh god, I'm awful referring to it as an it, he was a man!"

Lydia was on the verge of tears, and Allison immediately hugged her. He waited for her to calm down before he dared to ask if she knew anything else. She didn't. So he made sure they texted Scott and Stiles, and told them that if they were to have a pack meeting they were going to have it at his place. He even texted Stiles about getting more food in case they were hungry. When Lydia finally looked calm enough to move, he walked them back to their cars. 

Interestingly, he had parked right next to them - he should've recognized Allison's blue Mazda. He suddenly remembered he had a pastry and asked Lydia if she wanted to try and eat something. She nodded. So he went and grabbed it. 

When he gave it to her, though, she took it and threw it in the garbage bin. 

"Lydia?"

"I am not going to eat that."

"Why?"

"I don't know" and it looked that to her that was a perfectly reasonable explanation. Allison just shrugged.

He still had next to zero experience in the supernatural world, but he was sure that if a banshee didn't want to eat something he sure as hell wouldn't either.


	7. Melissa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was more important. She could worry about Rafael another day.

"Now Ms. Josie, have you been taking your medication? It's been a while since we've seen you here."

"The angels told me to stop taking it, Melissa. That I must be at my best for the things to come."

Old Ms. Josie was a nice little grandma that lived alone in her house at the edge of town. Several times her daughter had tried to move her to Beacon Care, but she would never accept, saying that the angels took care of her. The diagnosis had been schizophrenia and according to her charts she was being treated accordingly. She had a nurse on schedule, who had brought her this afternoon when she claimed that the angels told her that dark things were coming. Also, that she needed more salt. She would have dismissed the claims of the woman if her own son was not a werewolf with a penchant for Mexican food. Could angels be real too?

If that was the case they were not smiling at them. 

"You have seen the darkness, haven't you, my dear?"

Old Ms. Josie looked at her with sad eyes. It was something she usually didn't do - for a woman who claimed to see angels she was always pretty happy and loved to bake for the community events, although after the brownie incident most people wouldn't eat them. Melissa always grabbed one and threw it away when Ms. Josie wouldn't look. She felt bad for lying to her, but she felt worse when she flat out denied her. Which she couldn't do this time, so she went for deflection. 

"What do you mean, Ms. Josie? What darkness?"

"You have seen it, I can see it in your eyes, in the way you look at me now. Like you are not sure if what I'm telling you is nothing but the rambles of an old woman. Rest assured my dear, I am not crazy, and neither are you. But be careful. If you have seen into the Darkness, the Darkness has seen into you, and it will claim you."

After that Ms. Josie just looked up to the ceiling, and let a couple tears come out of her eyes. Startled, Melissa just grabbed her chart and proceeded to fill it out. She was about to ask her what she meant, when a knock in the door distracted her. It was one of the volunteers telling her that they wanted her in the administrative office. She already knew what it was about. 

Ever since his arrival, Rafael had been conducting a very extensive research in what most of the townsfolk waved away as animal attacks. Apparently he thought they might be related with the series of murders that happened well within a short time span - 12 attacks in less than three months, some of them committed sequentially - even if those had already been pinned in one Jennifer Blake, former English teacher at Beacon Hills High. And she knew how good he was at research - after all, it was one of the things that made her fall in love with him. 

He would be causing a lot of trouble. 

He was waiting for her with the director of the Nursing Department, as well as one of the hospital lawyers. She wondered briefly if she needed her own and she realized she didn't have any. Maybe she could ask Scott or Isaac to ask the Hales for one? After all it was werewolf business. But then she remembered they had left without leaving any sort of contact info. And now she was wondering if Scott could somehow summon them - if they were, after all, part of his pack. 

"Hello Melissa. Thanks for joining us."

She just nodded, acknowledging the interaction but not trying to increase it. Rafael's smile diminished, and she made sure her body language meant business. Business, and nothing else. 

He looked like he wanted to give one of his wise-ass remarks, and then realized they were with company, and thought better of it. 

Good. She was definitely not in the mood. 

"You mentioned having some questions for Mrs. McCall, Agent McCall. If you could proceed with them? We are severely understaffed and any minute she spends here is a minute she could be spending saving lives."

Melissa couldn't help but smile at Roger. Yes, she had turned him down on a couple dates, but that didn't mean she was going to be ungrateful.

"Yes. Melissa, you testified against Jennifer Blake, saying that she kidnapped you from this hospital three weeks ago. I was wondering if you could elaborate on that?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything you can tell me."

So she proceeded with her rehearsed version of the facts: she had been helping in the evacuation when Jennifer Blake showed up with her children (yes, as far as she knew Stiles was one of her children, and Rafael glared at the fact) and used them as bargaining chips in order to get her. She didn't know what she wanted from her or how was she more important that her children, she only knew that Blake wanted her. She kept with her story, on how she was kept inside that root cellar with Sheriff Stilinski and later Chris Argent, and they were waiting for something, anything, since Blake kept mentioning sacrifices and alphas and werewolves and that had assured them that she was crazy. And then she abandoned them and at some point the earthquake made the cellar cave in and if it weren't for the appearance of her son - she couldn't help but smile when Rafael grimaced at the idea of Isaac being her son - they would've died. The police showed up, rescued them and that was it. 

He asked her several questions, trying to find holes in her explanation. Interesting how having a Sheriff and his son creating the explanations they were to give to the police made it easier to just build a big scenario that most of the interested parties would believe. But he knew her, and she could see he was seeing she was lying. It had been one of the games they used to play. 

Who would succumb to the lie first?

"Would you tell me about our son being dead for twelve hours?"

"Not really - like I said, I was kidnapped during that incident."

"Don't you think it's a bit odd that this hospital declared three young persons dead for exactly twelve hours? And that they were alerted of their mistake by another girl the same age as the victims?"

"Like I said, I wasn't here at the time."

"Didn't you ask your son?"

Our son when he was dead, mine when I had to ask him about it?

"What my son told me is not an official matter, and I believe you were asking me about official matters of the hospital. Like I said, I was kidnapped during the time being. I can't officially answer without consulting with the hospital lawyer."

"Mr. Lawson?"

"We are still looking into the details, Agent McCall, I'm afraid you'll have to wait until we have an official statement - or bring a warrant from a judge."

Rafael just grimaced at them. She considered it a win. 

"Can you please tell me of one patient that arrived the last week of August? She and your son, Isaac Lahey, were checked in reporting several injuries. Both of them left the hospital before being discharged."

"Excuse me, Agent, how is that related to the ongoing investigation?"

"Call it a hunch. Melissa?"

Melissa tried to run all the facts quickly in her head. What was important? What could be left out? What needed to be left out?

Rafael started to smirk. He was seeing her squirm under her facade. She hated losing to him, but he knew her too well. 

"Yes, as far as I remember, Brayden Jones brought Isaac Lahey saying that she found him mugged, and apparently the muggers chased them through town. When they were here we suffered an attack by a gang that were looking to disrupt the situation in the hospital. I do not know if these incidents are related."

"Wasn't Scott McCall attacked during these incidents?"

"Yes."

"What was he doing outside of school? According to his records he was called into the hospital."

"Isaac had him listed as an emergency contact. His second, if you are interested - the first one was the man fostering him at the time."

"And why is that?"

"Do you really want to know?"

She was not going to rattle them as pack, but she had to make sure Scott and Isaac knew that Rafael was going to ask them about their relationship. 

"And yet you decided to foster the kid?"

"Why would that be a problem? If any, I wish I had known before - I wouldn't have insisted on getting a new bed."

"I am sure you are joking."

"Maybe I am, maybe I am not, but since that is interfering in my private life again, and independent of the investigation you are conducting, it cannot be used in court."

Strike two: he had taught her that. Grab one tail of the law and run with it until you get a lawyer. That will stop most of the armed forces, since their specialty is to shoot first and ask questions later. But he knows this trick, she knows that, and it won't deter him. 

"Are we done here, Agent McCall? I'd rather be doing my job, you know, _actually_ helping people."

"One more thing: what can you tell me of the attacks inflicted on the police department last May? I have you on camera being held in one of the cells while the Sheriff was handcuffed to the wall. Could you please elaborate?"

If there had been a wolf in the room they would have detected the way her pulse changed. If Rafael had gotten all the information related to that awful night, then he probably had at least one incriminatory picture of her in the cell, one of the Daehler kid putting a gun to her face, and probably one of Jackson's tenure as an iguana. 

The question was if he had one of her son as a werewolf. 

She had to be honest - she had to say as much of the truth as possible, if any to throw him off her back so she could go back to the pack and regroup. As that was not part of the investigation being held against the hospital they wouldn't waste one cent of their resources to help her there. 

"Again, I was kidnapped. In this case it was a young man, I don't recall his name, who was trying to get Scott and Stiles to destroy all the evidence that tied him up to several killings that happened earlier in the year. Scott and Stiles had figured it out and had just told Sheriff Stilinski when he found them at the station. Scott had just called me, as I was witness of the kid entering the hospital when a girl was murdered in here, and therefore he decided to lock me up. So Scott would not do anything... stupid."

It was all in the report, she hadn't changed anything. But she saw it in his eyes - something had not matched up, or matched up too good, or she had just said a little thing that was not to his liking and now he had a thread to pull and unravel all the tapestry. And he was going to use it, if it weren't for the knock on the door. 

"Excuse me, Ms. McCall? You are required in ward 3."

Isaac had barely opened the door and enunciated the words slowly. He wouldn't let Rafael look at him with his back to the door, but she would be looking at the head with curls directly. 

"I'm afraid is old Ms. Josie. She won't take her meds unless you give them to her, and it's giving us a lot of trouble?" Isaac said before any of the other orderlies or the lawyer could say anything against it.

"Are we done, agent? It seems I am required downstairs."

Rafael nodded, but that did nothing to acquiesce her mood. He had something, and he was going to run with it. 

She didn't open her mouth until they were safely tucked in the elevator. 

"It was not Ms. Josie, was it?"

"No - I felt your distress and made up the case. You may want to drop by her anyways. She did mention your name several times when I was moving her to her ward. Something about darkness."

"I know, she told me when I admitted her."

"Also, we need you to look at a body."

"What?"

"It was found in the mall today. Lydia wailed about his death before he was found, and it's particularly gruesome."

"Why, was there anything particular about it?"

"Its throat was slit. He was bled to death. And its heart was ripped out."

This was more important. She could worry about Rafael another day.


	8. Epilogue

The house was a large building, typical of the Northern California area, hidden, completely different from his old house in the suburbs and not unlike the old Hale manor. It was even a little in the woods, but in this case it wasn't as much as to prevent people from entering. It was more like it was standing a bit apart to make a statement. Royals lived in this house, and they were to be respected. 

The Warrens had turned out to be a pretty typical family, even if they were hosting more people than he would be comfortable with. He counted thirteen total, when he was giving them the rundown on the safety procedures and installments he had placed around the property. The house was built for more, at least twenty, and somehow he felt like he should be concerned about not remembering it from before and yet he knew it was just right. 

Just right. 

"Well, Ms. Warren, that should be all. I hope you find everything to your liking."

"Of course I do, Mr. Argent. I have to say, I'm surprised by your thoroughness and professionalism. You came well recommended, but still, I like it. And call me Sabrina."

"In that case, call me Chris. May I ask you, how did you find about me? I usually specialize in higher orders - sensitive buildings, professional body guarding, weapon training - not usually house calls."

"Your sister? Kate Argent? We met when she lived in Seattle some years ago. She mentioned that you were an itinerant consultant - I guess I lucked out that you just happened to be here!"

He tried to remember when was Kate in Seattle. He couldn't, but then again they were not always in touch that much. Maybe it had been when they were having a rough patch - or just plain not talking to each other. 

"By the way, where is she? It's been a while since I talked to her."

"I'm sorry. She died a year ago."

"Oh, my! No!"

She seemed truly startled by this. And yet, there was something in the way she reacted that felt stilted, or faked. 

"I mean, it's not like we were best friends or anything, but she was a good friend, and she did help me out of some sticky spots. I am sorry for your loss, Chris."

"No worries, I understand."

Maybe just a bit staged to make him feel more comfortable. 

"Anyways, I should be departing."

"Nonsense! Please, Mr. Argent, accept this old lady's invitation to dinner. My daughter may have forgotten her manners for living in Seattle for too long, and my granddaughter may have never learned them, but I am from Mississippi and I take my hospitality very seriously."

The matriarch of the Warrens had mostly been silent during his last revision of the house security system, but now she was walking to him with that air of regality the whole family carried around. Even the youngest, with her habit of chewing gum and reading books with her feet propped up.

"I am afraid not, Ms. Warren. I have a daughter to go back to."

"Ah, a father's responsibility. That I can understand. We shall invite you to dinner at some point. Maybe your wife will grace us as well?"

"She's dead. Departed from us some months ago."

"I am sorry to hear that, my dear boy. Forgive this old woman for being so intruding."

"No problem, ma'am, but if you excuse me, I truly have to go."

"Then go! No, wait one second. Lorena! Fetch Mr. Argent one of our pies - the peach pie. Put it in a box. And a jar of the cranberry sauce."

"What? Ms. Warren, I can't -"

"No point arguing, Chris, my mom won't let you leave without it."

"A guest gift, for a friend who departs. I just hope your daughter is not like my granddaughter who refuses to eat carbs. I swear to god, kids these days and their obsession with being thin. If they knew what is like to be thin and hungry they wouldn't be so keen about it."

The girl - Lorena - came from the kitchen pouting at her grandmother, but when she gave him the box she gave him a smile. 

They finally let him go, and when he crossed the fence - among the many things he had to supervise being installed - he thought to himself that maybe he could get a slice before Allison got home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it! This is the end of the first episode. 
> 
> I decided to upload the last two chapters in one day so I can force myself to write faster. I haven't finished the second episode (still working on a couple chapter, including some characters that didn't show up in this episode) but its first two chapters should be up Sunday. I already have the third and four episodes done, so I will upload those faster as well. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> Oh, and please, any mistakes that can be pointed out, I'd be eternally grateful.


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